


Branches Stretching To The Sky

by lisachan



Series: Leoverse [94]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sequel, Threesome - M/M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No rest for the wicked, or so they say, so Timmy must be very, very wicked, 'cause there's certainly no rest for him: he just made peace with being in love with his (almost, but not really) brother and he just managed to survive coming out to his family about it, and there his family goes, messing up once again. For once, though, this isn't Timmy's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branches Stretching To The Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Growing Into Trees](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686226) by [lisachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan). 



> **WARNING:** This story is a **what if** from the original 'verse. In the canon course of events that followed the beginning of Broken Heart Syndrome, **this has never happened**.  
>  This is also part of a doomed timeline, which would be one of those AU/What Ifs in which Leo and Blaine have been together, if only briefly, but ultimately end up apart, or didn't get together at all. (Even though I guess... this installment kind of fixes things in that sense? Idk, Idk.)  
> This year, Liz's Divorce Story came in early! Look, it's only March and here I am, already reprising Roots and its sequels with what I suppose will be the final chapter of Timmy's misadventures in the story of his extremely fucked up family.   
> The idea came to me while I was writing Growing Into Tree's finale: Leo, Cody and Blaine started acting on their own will and behaved in a way that made me shout "BUT OF COURSE, THAT'S IT!", and suddenly it was clear to me how this should've ended. When I told Tab, though, she answered with such a loud NOPE I'm still hearing it echoing through these halls. It was scary. She decided not to even read it. Shame on her. However, for those of you who will want to put up with me as I put Timmy through more than 10ks of suffering, the ending will be extremely positive, and -- well, the right one, for me. Cheers!

There’s someone tugging at the sheets right beside the bed. Doesn’t make a sound, but keeps pulling at them, and each and every time the covers slide off Timmy’s body, exposing his bare skin to the hard winter cold of December.

He whines, holding the cover between his fingers and turning on his side. His warmth finds Alex’s and they mix into one, and he smiles in his slumber, wrapping an arm around him.

The presence keeps tugging at the sheets, stubbornly.

He whines again and holds Alex close, using him as some sort of (barely) oversize hot water bottle, sighing in relief when he feels his hot breath against his neck.

“Timmy!” says Lisbeth all of a sudden, inflicting one last, hard pull at the sheets and tearing them off both their bodies, leaving them half naked and forcing Alex to wake up suddenly with half a scream, while he jumps sitting up, looking worriedly around himself.

“What?!” he yells, “Who died?!”

Lisbeth stands still a few steps from them, rising from the floor like a beautiful spring flower in the full glory of her two years old. She seems majorly annoyed. Her fine, thin black eyebrows come together right above her huge baby blue eyes in the middle of her forehead, and her cherry red soft lips are pursed in a dangerous pout, the one she only uses when she feels outrageously wronged and is about to let you know that by throwing her plastic unicorn doll right on your nose.

Lisbeth’s almost never angry. She compensates her not being a cheerful girl at all with being overall pretty calm. Nothing ever shakes her. She rarely cries, she never screams, she sleeps the night away, she’s not a whimsical child, true, she doesn’t smile very often, but it’s incredibly rare to see her angry.

Which means something bad must’ve happened.

“Lissy?” Timmy asks her, sliding on the bed, closer to her, “Is everything alright?”

“What’s the matter?” Alex asks too, standing up from the bed and walking around it, to kneel in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gently stroking her cheek. Timmy follows him as he moves around, perfectly at ease with himself despite only wearing his underpants, and as always his blood rushes South, and he needs to look away and breathe in and out for a few seconds to focus on the matter at hand. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Lisbeth answers, shaking her head, her ponytails swinging right and left as she does it, “But there’s something weird in the kitchen.”

Alex and Timmy exchange a puzzled look, having no idea whatsoever what she might be talking about. “Is there nobody home?” Timmy asks, “Couldn’t you find anything for breakfast? Is that it?”

“No,” Lissy shakes her head again, “There’s too many people in there.”

Alex frowns. “Too many,” he repeats, as if trying to make sense of what his sister’s saying.

“Yes,” Lissy nods, “It’s like that story you told me, Ally,” she insists, “With the monster pretending to be a person in a group of friends. But with no monster.”

Timmy sighs, lying down on the bed with a hand on his face. “I told you countless times not to tell her horror stories,” he complains, “You see how they affect her. She starts lying.”

“Shut up, Timothy,” Alex answers sharply, “You’re not her father.”

“I’m her brother.”

“A part-time brother.”

Timmy sits up suddenly, frowning. “Don’t go there,” he says.

Alex holds his gaze for a moment, defiantly. Then he sighs, looking down. “Sorry,” he says, “You know I don’t think that. But I hate it when you attack the way I deal with her.”

“Maybe you should stop feeling attacked all the time,” he says harshly. Then he sighs too. “Sorry,” he adds after a short while. 

After assisting at the whole scene in perfect silence, Lisbeth finally lets out a tiny laughter. “You’re so funny when you do this,” she says.

Both Alex and Timmy smile, because they know it’s true. It’s been a year since they came out of the closet about their relationship with their parents, and it’s been a year they’ve been trying to get used to this new situation. It’s taking more effort on their side than on their parents’, that’s for sure. Put in front of a done thing, them saying “we’re together, we’ve been together a while already, we have no intentions of splitting up”, Cody and Leo could do nothing but bow their heads, so to speak, and accept it. Nothing really changed for them – they were already used to Timmy coming and going from this house, they were used to him sharing the most of his time with Alex. They just had to let the fact that their interest in one another wasn’t brotherly, but romantic, sink in. But nothing in their daily life changed, except these jokes Leo every now and then drops on Cody, about being co-fathers-in-law, now. “Practically related,” as he puts it. God knows why he insists on the matter and why both Cody and Blaine laughs about it, considering it’s a pretty disturbing way to joke about the borderline incestuous mess that’s going on in this family – that’s been going on for years, actually, since Timmy seems unable to stop flying from a relative to another as far as romantic relationships are concerned.

It was different for Alex and him. Coming out gave them a whole new bouquet of opportunities, things they had never dared doing before are now well within reach, and they grab them eagerly. Having dates, sleeping all through the night in the same bed without being torn between locking the door not wanting to be seen and not locking it in fear of arising suspicions in their parents, kissing in public, even in front of their siblings, holding hands while watching family movies on the couch with the others, being able to go to their parents for a talk when something bad or weird happens between them and they don’t know how to cope with it.

A lot of things have changed, and they don’t seem to be able to find any time to let any of them sink in naturally, after years of only dealing with each other in secret and shame, so they had to start giving themselves rules, rules to follow, to try and create some sort of healthy habit as far as their relationship as lovers is concerned.

The “apology routine”, as Blaine named it when he taught it to them, is one of those rules, and one of those they have to follow the most – and apparently also the funniest one for Lisbeth. Whenever they start saying rude things at each other, slipping in the old, comforting habit of attacking one another to fight and put a stop to discussions that felt uncomfortable to both of them, they have to stop and think about what they said, and if they realize they said something hurtful, no matter if they still believe it or not, they must apologize. 

Sometimes that’s enough to stop fighting. Sometimes it’s not, and it takes them a little longer, and endless conversations all made up by various combinations of apologies and insulting sentences take place, so it’s not rare to see them go on for hours on the line of “I’m sorry, but I think you’re an idiot” and “well, I’m sorry too, but I think you’re an asshole”, which end up to be pretty funny for whoever’s watching – except them, of course.

They’re okay with the whole thing. They know they just need to get used to it. At some point, they’ll stop acting like that and they won’t need the rule anymore. Or maybe they still will, who knows?, maybe they’ll keep needing it forever. They don’t really care. They’re both okay with a lifetime of calling each other names and then kissing themselves stupid while asking for forgiveness.

“Alright,” Alex says, standing up and walking around the bed again to put his pants and an hoodie on, “Why don’t we go downstairs? See this non-monstrous monster you’re talking about?”

Lisbeth nods, satisfied with her brother’s proposition. Timmy sighs, standing up too. “There goes my lazy Sunday morning in bed,” he whines, putting his clothes on.

“We’ll have a lazy afternoon after lunch,” Alex says, casting a grin in his direction, “And we’re gonna be awake about it.”

Timmy smirks, trying not to look at him. “Don’t push me, there are minors in the room.”

“More than one, actually,” Alex laughs, referring to himself. Timmy laughs too, and then leans in and wraps his arms around Lissy, pulling her up.

“Ah, you’re growing heavier,” he says, pressing his nose against hers, “Soon enough you’ll be a real young lady.”

“Timmy,” she says, as if trying to focus him back to what matters right now, “The people in the kitchen.”

“Right, right, the people in the kitchen,” he nods. 

They all walk out of the bedroom and downstairs, and once they get there Timmy realizes that he doesn’t really know what he as expecting, but that for all his life _this_ was something he could never imagine it’d happen, and that he’s not sure how to face either.

Leo’s sitting down at the kitchen table, lazily flipping through a magazine and pulling from a bowl one piece of fruit after the other, having breakfast as Timmy’s seen him do almost every day of his life since they’ve been living together. Except this isn’t the right house for him to be doing it, and Cody’s standing in front of the stove, slowly stirring a mix of milk and chocolate in a tiny pan, and they’re chatting in a low voice about random things as if this picture they’re forming was normal.

But it’s not.

“See?” Lissy says, pointing at the scene with a tiny finger, “Too many people.”

Her voice catches Leo’s and Cody’s attention, and they turn to look at them. Leo puts the piece of fruit he was holding between his fingers back down on the bowl, but it’s not as if it was falling. He willingly puts it down in a calm, controlled movement. Overall looking not like somebody who’s surprised or scared to see this whole thing happen, but like someone who was expecting it, almost waiting for it.

“Good morning, Timmy,” Leo says, “Alex.”

Timmy can’t even talk. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t feel Alex anywhere around, it’s as if he disappeared. For a moment he even thinks he might’ve run away in shock. He only realizes he hasn’t because suddenly he speaks.

“What’s going on here?” he asks, “Where’s Blaine?”

“He went out for a run,” Leo answers. His voice sounds so steady, so firm. Timmy doesn’t remember ever hearing him speak with this kind of voice, not in the last few years, anyway, not since the divorce. It’s so creepy. He can feel his brain buzz like a fucking computer that just tripped over a process it can’t in any way run smoothly. He can’t wrap his mind around what’s happening, it’s something unconceivable. It’s wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. It’s like he woke up one day and the sky had turned green. It simply can’t be happening.

“Timmy?” Leo calls for him. His voice shows a little uncertainty, finally. “Please, say something.”

He keeps his mouth shut because he doesn’t trust himself right now. He doesn’t know what he’d blurt out if he opened his lips. He’s not even sure if he’d say something at all. Maybe he’d just scream and run upstairs to cry. Maybe he’s overreacting?, he muses distractedly. He doesn’t care. He’s confused and weirded out. He doesn’t know what else to do.

“What’s going on here?” Alex asks again, stepping forward and taking Lissy from Timmy’s arms, to put her down.

Cody and Leo look at each other for a second. Then Cody turns the stove off. “Do you want some chocolate?” he asks.

Alex frowns. “Dad, don’t avoid questions. This is ridiculous. What is even happening right now? Why is Leo here? Does Blaine know?”

“Alex,” Cody tries sweetly, putting the pan down on a support on the table and reaching out for two mugs from the cabinet above the sink, “It’s alright. Of course you’re confused. But please, don’t be upset. Sit down, have some chocolate.”

“I want no fucking chocolate!” Alex snaps, closing his hands in fists down his sides. Timmy can feel his eyes on himself. He wants to tell him not to look at him, but he can’t find the words, or a voice with which to speak them, for that matter. “I want you to tell me what’s going on,” Alex adds, a little bit more calmly.

The entrance door clacks open and then closed, and from the kitchen they can hear Blaine come back into the house, sighing with clear satisfaction. They all stop, as if that new set of sounds coming from another room had popped the bubble hey had been held captive into up to that moment. They turn simultaneously, staring at the kitchen door. Blaine appears in the frame soon enough, unzipping his hoodie.

“Oh,” he says. He stops on the threshold, his arms falling limp down his body, “Oh.”

Timmy searches for his eyes, finds them, stares into them and ultimately, afraid of what he might find at the bottom of them, the turns around and runs away.

*

Blaine comes upstairs soon enough. Timmy hears him knock on the door and he knows it’s him even before he says so. “Timmy, love, let me in,” his father says. Timmy doesn’t even answer.

He undressed the very moment he stepped into the bedroom. He looked at the bed, still unmade since when Alex and him had woken up, and the first clear thought he could extract from his own mind was: maybe, if I undress and slip back under the covers and get to sleep, when I wake up I’ll find out this was nothing but a weird dream, and it’ll be like it never happened.

So he undressed. He kicked his slippers off, pulled down his pants, threw away his t-shirt, and he laid down, his face pressed against the pillow, shutting out from reality entirely. 

He knew Blaine was going to come up to talk. Of course he knew. He isn’t ready for that, though. Frankly, he doubts he ever will. This is just too much. It’s just too weird. And he knows he himself brought a good deal of weirdness and awkwardness into this family, but he’s a fucking child. Even if he’s grown up now, even if he’s of age, even if he can almost drink legally everywhere in the world – just a few years more for that, not that he’s counting – he’s still a fucking child. Blaine’s fucking child. Children are supposed to bring mayhem to families. Sons and daughters, that’s what they do. They mess up. Parents should fix that mess, not add to it with their own.

And he doesn’t even know what fucking happened yet. 

But coming to think about it, he doesn’t even need to. He doesn’t need to know if something really happened, divorced parents simply _aren’t supposed to sleep at each other’s house_. Even if all they did was sleep, even if Leo slept on the couch, even if nothing generally weird has happened at all, the simple fact that Timmy woke up and Leo was there, having breakfast with Cody like it was no serious business, that’s enough. That’s more than fucking enough.

Timmy spent the last five years of his life trying to accept the concept that his parents were no more, that there was no family still unbroken in his life, that if he had to accept the idea of having a new one he needed to forget about what he had had for the first years of his life, stop hoping that kind of family will ever come back again and get used to the new one.

And he finally managed, last year. He was finally fucking okay. After that awful Christmas, and what happened with Tana, and what happened with Alex, and coming out with their parents, and all the shit that came before, and all the shit that came after, he was finally motherfucking okay. 

He was. And there it went. Down the fucking drain.

As he keeps his face down against the pillow, stubbornly refusing to even turn around for air, drawing the little oxygen his body needs to keep itself functioning in its stillness from the pillow smelling of Alex he keeps pressed against his nose, he listens to what’s happening outside the locked door.

Around ten, the twins wake up. They vehemently ask for breakfast, and when they see Leo’s there they don’t seem upset. They’re happy to see him. “You came to visit?” Harper asks cheerfully, “You came to have breakfast together!” Logan says, excitedly. The twins loved Sunday breakfasts when Leo and Blaine were still a thing just as much as Timmy himself did. No wonder they’re so happy now. They’re kids. They’d take having Leo with them even if this means he’s gotta share a table with Cody any day over not having Leo at all.

Blaine keeps knocking. “Powder puff,” he says, “Do you want to be left alone for a while?”

Yes, yes, leave me alone, Timmy thinks. He just thinks it, though, he doesn’t manage to utter the words. He just can’t, right now, he wouldn’t know why. It’s freaky, but he can do nothing about it.

Blaine sighs deeply. For a moment, he leans against the door with all his weight. Timmy hears it creak lightly, and he knows his father’s considering breaking in, because not hearing a single word from him, not even the sound of crying, scares and worries him.

“Fine,” he says in the end, deciding not to, “I’m… I’m sorry about it. I’ll come back later. Maybe then we can talk.”

No, they can’t. No, they won’t. Timmy shuts his eyes closed, squeezes them, squeezes them, until he gives himself an headache. He drifts through the pain pulsing in his temples and then flowing through his body, and in a matter of minutes he’s fast asleep.

*

A different knocking wakes him up a few hours later. This is not his father. His father makes music with everything he does, including knocking on doors. There’s always some kind of melody guiding the tempo with which his knuckles hit the wooden surface. Even when he’s worried, even when he’s upset. It’s stronger than him, it’s _inside_ him, part of him.

Leo’s way of knocking is completely different. He always just knocks twice. Knock knock, and then silence.

“Timmy,” says his voice, “Wake up. It’s late.”

For a moment he wonders, how does Leo know he was asleep and not merely awake and locked in there, refusing to see them or speak to them?

Then he realizes: leave it to Leo to know exactly how fucked up people react to fucked up situations. No one’s better than him at that, he’s a motherfucking worldwide recognized authority on the topic.

Timmy could answer to him. He woke up suddenly, but the step between sleep and watch was extremely short, and he’s already fully aware of what’s happening around him – the high early afternoon sun, birds signing outside, Lissy and the twins playing in the garden despite the intensely cold wind blowing through the crowns of the trees, making the leaves shake and rattle with a soft crispy sound – and he’s aware of what happened this morning, and he knows he’s holed up in there to avoid thinking about it, though he’s failing spectacularly at the task.

He could answer. Tell him no, Leo, it’s not late. There’s no late to this, ‘cause I will only come out of here when I’m better, and I can deal. And I strongly suspect I never will. 

He stays silent, instead. His voice doesn’t seem to even _be_ there. He doesn’t need to try using it to know. He just knows.

“Timmy,” Leo calls him again. His voice is more stern, now, almost hard. What’s happened to his voice? What’s happened to the thin, weak man who walked through the house lightly as if he didn’t even touch the floor? What’s been of him, who is this man who speaks certainly and firmly and demands to talk with him about things he doesn’t wanna talk about at all? “Timmy, you can’t hide in there forever, you do realize that, don’t you?”

Really, now, can’t he? And why should he listen to Leo about it? He’s done nothing but run and hide for the entirety of his life. Whenever something bad happened with Blaine, he withdrew. When shit hit the fan, he kicked him out. He hid in his books, reliving his life story over and over again through his novels, giving them the happy ending he couldn’t have given to his own. He hid behind depression when Blaine left him alone the first time, he hid behind that horrid fake smile of his when they broke up for good, he hid behind the parties, and trying to keep that wretched family together against all odds not to face the fact that it was _over_ , and now this. Whatever happened. He stays around because he can’t accept that whatever there was is lost, lost forever, can’t be retrieved anymore.

He hates him. He hates him like he’s never hated him before. He didn’t even know he could hate him like this. He never had. He had decided to stay with him because he loved him, he wanted to protect him, because he understood why he wanted to hide and he thought he was right, right because people don’t _have_ to face what hurts them, they can, but they don’t have to, sometimes things are too bad, much too bad to be faced and come out unscathed at the other end of the tunnel, and Timmy understood that, he felt for him because of that, and he wanted to help him out with it. 

And now he comes to him, shamelessly like this, and he tells him not to hide. He tells him not to run. How dares him?

Leo sighs. Much like Blaine did a few hours ago.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll come back later.”

No, Timmy thinks, don’t. I don’t wanna see you. I don’t wanna speak with you. Maybe, he thinks, if I tell him, he won’t come back.

But he still can’t speak. He listens to him walk away with another sigh, knowing he’s gonna come back later, inevitably. He already dreads the moment.

*

If Leo did come back or not, in the end, he doesn’t know. When he wakes up next, it’s because someone’s touching him, and that someone’s none of his parents. Soft hands, smelling like freshly cut fruit, something sweet and juicy, like a pear. He presses his nose against the warm palm stroking his cheek, and he whispers, “Alex.”

He doesn’t answer. Not that Timmy was expecting him to. Alex never speaks much. He’s certainly an happier boy now than he was two years ago, but he’s never been – and Timmy suspects never will be – a talkative one. That’s part of his beauty, Timmy supposes, he’s some sort of uncrackable riddle, if he gave himself away too much he’d probably be way less intense than he is. Still fucking beautiful. But intensity’s all Timmy ever wanted from love. So he prefers this overcomplicated version of his boyfriend to a much simpler one that wouldn’t make his stomach somersault in his belly every time they touch.

He opens his eyes. It’s only ‘cause he wants to see him. Reality floods back in his vision at once: it’s dark outside, it’s not nighttime yet but it’s probably time for dinner already. His stomach checks in with him, growling loudly, and Timmy silently tells him not yet, too soon, not yet. 

Alex smiles down at him. It’s a mocking smile, but there’s a sweeter undertone in the way his lips curl upwards. “Is it over?” he asks, “Can you stop being a drama queen, already? And come down, maybe?”

“I’m not being a drama queen,” he answers. There’s no rage in his voice, he’s not annoyed. Merely tired, perhaps. 

Alex’s fingers stroke his cheek again, ever so gently. “I know,” he says in a low breath.

Timmy moves onto the bed, crawling towards him. He rests his head on his bended knees, wrapping his arms around his waist and hiding his face against his tummy. He can feel the tiny pressure of the jewel hanging out of his navel, even through his clothes. He missed him so.

“How did you come in? The door was locked.”

Alex smiles a little, shrugging lightly. “I used the emergency ladder outside. Put it up against the wall, climbed through the window. Someone needed to be in there, and since you weren’t letting anybody in…”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“Of course they know,” Alex sighs, “Who do you suppose helped me with the ladder and made sure I didn’t slip and fall to the ground? Come on. They got you didn’t wanna talk to them. They thought you’d talk with me. And they were right.”

Timmy can do nothing but nod, because that’s true. As much as he hates them right now, and resents them for the spot they just put him in, they’re still his parents. No one knows him better than them. Not even Alex.

“What happened?” he asks, clinging more tightly to him, hiding his face in his lap. “This morning, in the kitchen, I mean. What was that about?”

Alex tenses, his hand landing on Timmy’s head, stroking his hair. “What do you think was that about?”

“I’m not sure,” Timmy answers, “Have you spoken with them?”

“I did,” Alex nods.

“What did they say?”

“What do you expect they’d say?”

“Stop answering my questions with other questions,” Timmy answers, his voice weak and shaky, “It’s making me crazy. You sound like you don’t wanna tell.”

“Because I don’t,” Alex sighs. He keeps stroking his head with his hand for a while, silently, before speaking again. “You know, I’d like to have a hug too. I’ve been dealing with this shit alone all day. It isn’t any easier on me.”

“I know,” Timmy says. He doesn’t bulge an inch, though. “I know, I’m sorry. But I can’t. Not right now. I need you to be the stronger one, now.”

Alex stays still for a moment. Timmy wonders vaguely is that wasn’t an answer he expected. If maybe he expected him to say right, yes, of course, come lay down with me, let me hug you too. Doesn’t Alex know? You need an extraordinary amount of strength to hug someone else. He doesn’t have it in himself right now.

“Timmy,” Alex says after a while, his hands now moving again, “You know what it means to love somebody more than one can afford to. You know, ‘cause… ‘cause I’ve seen you loving me that way. And you’ve seen me loving you that way. And you’ve felt that kind of love – the kind of love that doesn’t die, that simply refuses to die out even though it should.” He stops abruptly, taking a deep breath. “I’m not good with words,” he says then, “I’m not good with explanations. I can’t try and explain to you what came over them, how… how they decided this was right and necessary and they had to do it. But I can tell you, I looked at them as they spoke to me and even though my entire being screamed no so loud it was deafening to myself first, my heart knew that look. My heart knew and it… it understood. What happened exactly, they will tell you. They told me, but I won’t repeat it, ‘cause it made me uncomfortable downstairs and it’d make me uncomfortable here too, and I don’t want you to always remember this moment and hearing my voice saying that, I don’t. So they will tell you. They will explain. All I wanna do is let you know.”

Timmy doesn’t remember starting to cry. But he feels dampness underneath his face, Alex’s t-shirt, wet with his tears, sticking to his feverish cheeks. “Let me know what?” he asks in a tiny, broken voice.

“That even though my heart knew, and it made me understand, and even though I’ve had time to face the situation and make some sort of peace with it… I’m still with you.” He says it, and then keeps silent for a moment. Only a moment, to let the weight of his words fall gently upon Timmy, so that he can feel it. “I’ll be with you whatever you decide.”

Timmy looks up at him. He can barely see him through the thick veil of tears clouding his eyes. He lifts a hand, stroking his cheek. It’s soft and warm and smooth and so pleasant to the touch. “You’re so mellow,” he says, “So sweet. It’s unusual. You don’t sound like yourself at all.”

Alex holds his face in his hands, pulling him up a little as he leans down as much as he can. “My heart could only see that kind of love if it had it in itself, Timmy,” he answers, kissing him lightly on his lips, “That’s the kind of love that makes you forget yourself when it’s needed.”

But is it that what’s happened to his father, to Leo, to Cody? What is it, they forgot themselves for a brief moment and that was it? Isn’t that too much of an easy way out?

He closes his eyes, giving in to Alex’s kiss, to his warm embrace. He falls asleep right away, exhausted.

*

He wakes up again in the middle of the night. Clock on the nightstand says almost 3 AM, and the house is utterly silent, and the sky outside is utterly dark. Not a single star, not even the moon. Appropriate.

Alex’s sleeping quite peacefully by his side. He’s breathing softly, lying down on his side, facing him. His face is so beautiful, dark hair falling over it, giving him a mysterious air. He’s got lashes casting shadows over those pale, perfect cheeks of his, his one true love. He looks like a sleeping fairy out of a children’s storybook. An otherworldly creature, night-born, magic-spirited. He’s unreal and he wields such a gravitational pull over him. Timmy’s barely awake, and he’s already moving towards him, wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him close, smelling the curve of his neck, calming himself down through his warmth.

Alex doesn’t even wake up. He leans into his touch naturally, settling comfortably between his arms, and keeps sleeping, breathing slowly in and out. Timmy closes his eyes and tries to follow the rhythm of his breath, hoping that’ll be enough to pacify him.

It’s not.

He feels nervous, restless, how he felt when things were messy with Alex and he couldn’t stand going through the entire night in this house. He needs to run. Run back home. Where it’s quiet. Where it’s safe.

He slips out from Alex’s embrace. He doesn’t wake up, he doesn’t even change position. Timmy stands next to the bed and looks down at him. He just left him, and his body’s already longing for him.

The kind of love that makes you forget yourself when it’s needed… maybe he’s not capable of that kind of love at all, he wonders as he covers him with a blanket and then turns around to put some clothes on.

He could take the car, but he decides to walk. Home isn’t far away from there, after all. Blaine wanted a place the kids could reach on foot, once they were old enough to walk on their own. Well, lucky him it’s also a place you can run away from on foot easily too.

He walks the silent roads of the quiet neighborhood, the night cold wind blowing in his face, messing up his hair. He knows the way by heart, and as he steps on the sidewalk and lets his memory guide him he closes his eyes and thinks about his farm. The farm he will one day own. That’s gonna be a quiet place too. A quiet, nice place he won’t want to run to, nor from. He won’t want to run from it, because he will belong there and nowhere else, and that’s the very same reason why he won’t need to run to it either. There, he’ll live peacefully, surrounded by simple, honest things. The grass, the animals, the crops. Blue sky above him, thick brown earth underneath him. Maybe Alex will want to come visit, every now and then. Maybe he’ll even live there.

He opens his eyes and he’s in front of his house. Leo’s house. He doesn’t know anymore, at this point, does this house even have any single reason left to still exist? To still mean something to him? Except the ruin of his family, as it stands dark and desperately empty at the end of this private road?

All the windows are shut, there are no lights coming from within. No voices. Nothing at all.

He rummages in the pockets of his coat and takes out the keys. He’s got just one keychain for all the keys in his possession. He suddenly feels the urge to take them all and throw them away. Just run and never look back. Wouldn’t that be easier?

He lets the moment pass. He knows that’d be madness, he’s not that stupid. The need comes, overcomes him and then fades away. He’s still holding the keys in his hands. He uses them to open the door, and in one step he’s in.

The place looks as desolate on the inside as it seemed on the outside. Empty and cold. Leo must be at Blaine and Cody’s, still. The mere thought makes Timmy want to crawl out of his skin. That they could do something like that in such a natural way, as if they suddenly woke up one day and decided it was absurd they hadn’t given it a try already… makes him shake with anger. The kind of love that makes you forget yourself, said Alex. Timmy isn’t sure that’s it. He’s not sure his parents or Cody ever forgot themselves while they were moving in that direction. On the contrary, he thinks they thought about nothing else _but_ themselves. Unable to give up anything either of them might have held some owning right over back then, they simply took it back. Selfishness, not love. That’s what it was.

He walks upstairs, feeling the stairs creak under his weight. How weird. This house has always been alive with noise. With the twins and all… Timmy never had the chance to hear its voice, all those little sounds typical of huge houses like that. Every empty house’s voice is creepy. The feeling makes him tense, makes him want to run away again. But he’s heading to Leo’s bedroom – his parents’ former bedroom – for a purpose, and he won’t stop until he gets there.

The room is empty too. The bed is made, the window closed, the curtains too. He heads straight for the closet, opens it and pulls out the first drawer under the pile of Leo’s hoodies, searching for the purple file with the divorce papers.

 _The spouses have reached an amicable agreement on the terms of their separation._ The file’s not there.

“You think I didn’t know you came in here to read it?”

Timmy turns around, his heart beating so furiously in his chest it almost hurts. Glued to the closet, startled by how sudden the voice had sounded, he stares at Leo, as if unable to believe he’s really there. 

He seems calm. Peaceful, even. His arms loosely crossed over his chest, leaning on the doorframe, he looks at him with clear blue eyes. He’s not smiling. He doesn’t even look angry, though.

“What…?”

“You came here,” Leo says, “For years. Every time you could. Whenever you thought me too busy to notice. You came in here and reached for that file. You sat down and read it. Over and over again. I used to wonder why you’d do that to yourself, God knows I couldn’t. Then I got it. You needed to face it. Face it in writing. To remind yourself, or maybe just to try and understand it better. I don’t know…” he sighs, “At some point, I decided I’d let you have it your way. I saw your face whenever you came out of here, your eyes. You looked so sad and lost. And every time I thought why, why does he do that, and shouldn’t I put a stop to this, forbid him to come in here again, or at least hide that file better, where he won’t find it?” he shrugs, “I never did. I thought I didn’t have a right to tear you away from it. It was my divorce, but it was your family too. You must have had some right over those papers. They had to be yours as much as mine.”

Timmy lowers his eyes, closing his hands in fists down his sides.

“How did you know?”

“That you came in here to read it?”

“No,” Timmy shakes his head, “That you’d find me here tonight.”

Leo moves away from the doorframe, and closer to him. “The same way I knew you came in here to read it. I watched you, Timmy. I always watched you.”

“Shut up,” Timmy growls, casting a fiery glare at him, “You don’t care about me. Don’t pretend you do.”

Leo backs off a little, frowning. He seems angered and outraged by his words. “How can you say that?”

“How? It’s the truth!” he insists, “You care nothing for me! For how I struggled! If you knew how hard it’s been for me—”

“You think it’s been any easier for me?”

“I don’t _care_ how it’s been for you!” he yells, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence as his eyes fill with tears, “I don’t care! I’m the son! I’m not supposed to care for your fuckups! You’re supposed to care for mine! You’re the fucking parents, for Christ’s sake! I don’t have a responsibility over you, it’s the other way ‘round!”

Leo tenses, lowering his arms. He keeps looking at him, the mane of his wild curls framing his face, making his skin stand out easily despite the darkness in the room. “You’re right,” he says, “You’re absolutely right. But parents aren’t superheroes. They’re people— we’re people. We’re allowed our fuckups too.”

“That what it is? Huh?” Timmy asks, “That what it was this morning? A fuckup? You in that kitchen, having breakfast with him as if— as if he hadn’t stolen your man, my father, as if I didn’t have to abandon my father choosing to stay with you because of him?!”

“Don’t,” Leo says sternly, shaking his head, “Don’t blame Cody for you siding with me, Timothy. He had his faults. He had plenty. As I did. As your father did. But this you can’t blame him for, not the actions of a child he had no power over.”

“He ruined our life!”

“He did,” Leo nods, “And what of before? I ruined his. And your father ruined mine. So, now that we’ve put that out in the open? I still love your father. And your father still loves me. And Cody, he loves us both, and we love him back. What do you want me to tell you, Timmy? Something easy? Something simple? Something that won’t scar you? You want a lie, then.”

“I want the truth!” he screams in frustration.

“Oh, but you don’t, baby boy,” Leo shakes his head again, “You don’t, ‘cause you’re not ready to face it. That’s why you hid out in your room, and then you ran back here. You’re running from the truth, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Stop pontificating about running, goddamnit!” Timmy screams again, hitting the closet behind himself with both his fists, “You don’t have that right! You’re the best runner in this family, running’s all you ever do!”

“Yes, and where did that get me?!” Leo says, raising his voice too. Surprised, Timmy falls back against the closet, locking his lips. Leo sighs, passing a hand over his face. “This isn’t easy for me, T. T. That’s the hugest failure of my life and a burn that won’t stop hurting for as long as I live. Twice I tried to live my life without your father, and twice I came back to him, one way or another. Twice I tried to cut back from Cody, to pretend he hadn’t meant to me much more than I was ready to admit, and twice I found myself unable to do so. What do you want me to tell you, Timmy? Do you want to hear what happened? We were together, last night, all of us. They held me, and we slept together, and it was the first moment of peace of mind I’ve had in years. You want me to say I’m ashamed of that? I can’t, unless you want me to lie. It’s true that I ran for most of my life, but running only got be back full circle. I can’t allow you to do the same. I won’t let you waste half your fucking life, like I did. Pain isn’t worth it, son. Only love is.”

Timmy looks down, his eyes stinging painfully. Is he crying already? He doesn’t know. He probably looks ridiculous. Not that he cares anymore, at this point.

“Where did you put the file?” he asks in the weakest voice he’s ever heard coming from himself.

“Away,” Leo says, “I took it away from you, Timmy. I did what I should’ve done when you were just a kid. I was wrong. It was your family, but it wasn’t your divorce. I should’ve been there with you, Timmy, should’ve gone through that file with you, should’ve done it once and then I should’ve put it away for good. You needed me more than I needed you, and I wasn’t there to support you, and somehow… somehow I think that’s why we’re here today.” Timmy hears him breathe in and out, and then move closer. “Those days are gone. Timmy. Look at me.” He puts his hands on his face, pulling it up. Their eyes lock. Timmy can’t understand if Leo’s crying too. “It’s over now. No more going through that file. No more obsessing over your father and my mistakes. Timmy,” he leans in, wrapping him in a warm hug, squeezing him tight, “It’s time we took care of you already. Messed up as we are. Stubborn and stupid and full of imperfections. It’s time we took care of you. Let us take care of you.”

Something in Timmy just cracks at those words. And it’s not his heart, no, it’s something more superficial, something epidermic, an outer shell, a cocoon, something that’s been covering him up, he doesn’t know for how long, but it must be a fucking lot, because the moment it cracks, the moment its shards drop to the floor, he feels a thousand times lighter, and a thousand time freer. 

He melts in Leo’s warm embrace, tilting his head forward, resting his forehead on the curve of his shoulder. He exhales a deep, surrendering breath, feeling his limbs weaken, his body growing heavier. He trusts Leo will be able to hold him up.

He somehow manages.

*

It’s almost 4 AM when they finally make it back home. They walked all the way back, they walked slowly, actually, none of them wanting to rush the moment they’d face what they have left a few hours before. They spoke for a while. Timmy asked questions, mostly about the past, about what really happened between him and Cody when they were younger, and Leo answered honestly and openly about it for the first time in his life. 

He told him Adam often said they really loved each other, back then, and Leo smiled and shook his head. “It was so much more than love, Timmy,” he said in a sweeter voice than Timmy could remember ever coming from him, “I adored him. I lived and breathed for him. Woke up in the morning thinking I had him to look forward to, him to take care of. He was a broken little thing and I felt responsible for him, and I wanted to drown him in love to the point of making it impossible for him to go on one day without him. It was something at the same time completely selfless and utterly selfish. Never knew how that worked. But it was absolute and amazing, and it stuck with me. It’s not one of those things you can let go, even after they’re over.”

“Like with dad,” Timmy commented, looking down at his feet.

Leo nodded and smiled. “Precisely,” he said.

Those were the last words they spoke on the subject, before arriving home.

“God, I was so worried,” Cody says in a little whine, letting them in, “You disappeared and, when I got to Alex’s room, I saw he was alone in the bed, and I didn’t know what to think.”

Leo smiles and wraps an arm around his waist, kissing him on his cheek. “Calm down,” he says, “Timmy and I just needed a talk.”

Cody turns to look at Timmy and instantly looks down, blushing vividly. He must be so embarrassed. Timmy doesn’t even know how to deal with him, he’s so different than Alex. He looks so fragile and sweet, always worried to do the wrong thing, like a kid finally gaining access to his father’s studio, a place he’s wanted to see for years, hiding so many treasures he can’t even count them, but then refusing to touch any of them in fear he might break one.

“Would you like some milk and cookies?” he asks, “You had nothing to eat all day.”

Timmy doesn’t even think he really hates him. Not any more than he hates his parents, at least, which turns out not the be that much, all in all.

He doesn’t really know. Everything’s confused. But he is indeed hungry, so he nods.

“I’ll go talk with Blaine,” Leo says, “Where is he?”

“In his studio,” Cody answers, sighing a little, “He wouldn’t speak a word.”

Leo lets out half a laughter, shaking his head. “Like father, like son,” he says, disappearing down the hallway.

Timmy follows Cody to the kitchen and sits at the table, exhaling deeply. He feels so tired and sleepy. He hates days like this, those endless days time seems to have no control over. It’s like you’re expecting them to be over when the sun sets, but they go on. They go on indefinitely. No matter how tired you are, how sick you are of them.

“I know it’s been a huge blow for you,” Cody says. Timmy looks up at him, as he serves him a glassful of milk and a few chocolate chips cookies on a plate, “Leo said it would’ve been better to act normally about it, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t really want to come down. I was hoping we could have a little chat before… before it came out.”

“What difference do you think it would have made?” Timmy asks, sipping at his milk and then resting back against the chair, “Do you think it’d have been less traumatic if you had called us up, sat us down around a table and told us formally, like, we’ve got something to tell you, kids, you might wanna sit down? You’re delusional.”

Cody recoils as if Timmy had struck him down with a wooden stick or something. He looks down, his shoulders dropping in a troubled sigh. Timmy sighs too, taking a bite out of a cookie.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t wanna be rude. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I know nothing, actually. Like, is this a thing, now? Is this how it’s gonna be? We’re gonna live together in one single house full of children with a huge bedroom for three like some sort of fucking Mormon family?”

Cody bites at his inner cheek, still looking down. He feels uncomfortable and awkward, it’s so obvious it almost makes Timmy want to torture him, keep insisting on the topic, see how long he can hit on it, how far he can push things until Cody breaks and finally leaves. Wouldn’t that solve everything? Leo said Blaine and him still love each other. Wouldn’t it be easier if Cody simply went out of the picture?

“If you’re asking,” Cody says, “I don’t know. You seem to think your parents and I should have all the answers, but we don’t. All we know is that something happened last night – something’s been happening for the past few months, and we wanna see where it leads us.”

Timmy widens his eyes, his heart missing a beat. “The past few months?” he says weakly, “You mean this wasn’t…”

“It was!” Cody hastens to say, looking up at him and blushing even more, “It was. Nothing like that had ever happened before. But that wasn’t my point. Things changed inevitably, last night, but they had been changing from before. I don’t know how, or why. And I’m sure it’s our fault, that we could never really break the rope tying us together, and then trying to free ourselves from it without breaking it we just ended up tying ourselves more and more with it. Of course it was our fault. Of course it was irresponsible of us. Stupid, even. But,” he sighs, sitting down in front of him, “I don’t know. It happened. We can’t turn our way from it. I dread having to be the one who tells you this. We’ve never been close. You never forgave me. And I don’t resent you for it, on the contrary, I understand it, but your father and Leo won’t answer you clearly on this, ‘cause they just can’t. I have to. I can be honest for them both and myself. We don’t know where this is going to lead us. We don’t know how we’ll explain it to the children, and to our friends and families. But this is happening, Timmy, and it’s not going to stop.”

“I was right,” Timmy growls, dropping the cookie back on the plate, “You’re so selfish. You all are. You— even if I told you this is hurting me, this is confusing me, you wouldn’t stop. You don’t give a fuck.”

“No, Timmy, that’s not it,” he sighs, passing a hand over his face, “We care. We love you. We love you all so much, you’re our children, how could we not? But Timmy, we’ve been miserable half our lives. There’s a breaking point— when people get to that point, to the point they’re so dramatically unhappy they’d do anything just for it to stop, they do stupid things. And believe me, I know what I’m talking about. I know— Leo knows. Blaine knows too. It’s been years, now. You and Alex are almost adults, Timmy. The twins are growing up. Except baby Lissy, we don’t have children to raise anymore. You’re not little babies we have to shelter from everything real, from everything complicated. You’ve faced your good deal of complications yourself, you should know.”

“I was never—“

“Weren’t you, Timmy?” Cody sighs, trying a little smile, “You went through it last year, my dear. It happened with my son. You know what I’m talking about. You were facing a choice, either we take the hard road, and we tell everything, and we try to endure it, and we go on, or we take the easy one, and we let it go.” He looks down, his eyes shimmering in the yellow light of the kitchen. “That’s exactly what’s happened to us. This… this thing came to us. We could either embrace it, or refuse it. But both choices would have changed everything for good.” He looks back up to him. His eyes are clear, stern, almost defiant. Timmy’s scared by what he’s going to say. “Don’t think, not even for a moment, that if we had decided to refuse it everything would have gone back to normal. There are things you can’t just forget. Some things, when you see them, you can’t unsee. Your father and I would have probably broken up. Your father and Leo would’ve never gotten back together. Every single hope of happiness we might’ve had… shattered forever.” He reaches out for Timmy, covering his hand with his own. “It wasn’t a choice, Timothy. It was never a choice.”

Cody’s hand is warm, and his eyes are too. There’s some sort of infinite sadness in his smile, and at the same time some sense of inevitability that makes Timmy feel at a loss.

Adults are scary. They’re just as lost as little kids are. They’re bound to make the same mistakes little kids would selfishly do, and there’s no stopping it. There’s so making it better. Over and over again, people fuck up, and other people are hurt for those fuckups, and it just keeps coming.

As he looks at Cody and this knowledge fills his head, making him feel scared and unsafe, completely unbalanced, like somebody suddenly pulled the rug from underneath him, he thinks about Alex. Is it going to be the same with him? For all their life together? Will they keep trying, and making mistakes, and hurting each other, over and over?

If there’s no escape to this, then he needs it to be with him. And as he realizes it, he finally seems to be able to see it. That spark Alex talked about, that thing in Cody’s eyes, the reason why this is happening. It’s the same for them. If all they can do is keep making mistakes, they at least want it to be together in it.

It’s dreadful. And weirdly reassuring all the same.

“Timmy?” Leo calls him. Cody withdraws instantly, pulling his hand back. Timmy slowly turns to look at Leo, standing on the threshold of the kitchen, looking at him. “Your father wants to talk to you.”

Timmy’s heart sinks down into the dark black pit that is his stomach now. “Do I have to?” he asks weakly.

Leo smiles softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, “He’s waiting for you.”

*

His father’s sitting still behind his desk, in his studio. He looks tired. Tired and older than he ever seemed to him. For a few seconds, the sight breaks Timmy’s heart, and he regrets making such a fuss. Locking himself up, running away in the middle of the night like that. No matter how many mistakes he makes, his father doesn’t deserve that.

“You scared me half to death,” he says.

Timmy walks towards the desk and sits on one of the chairs in front of it, feeling like a little boy as his father looks at his sternly, with such sadness in his eyes Timmy can’t even look back.

“I’m sorry,” he says. There’s a voice inside of him saying you’re nineteen, you can go out in the middle of the night if you want, you don’t have to apologize, man up and stop acting like a kid.

He can’t listen to it.

Blaine could keep scolding him, Timmy knows that. He could stand up, raise his voice, make him feel all the weight of the distance imposed on them by their age and roles, but he doesn’t. He never has, actually. Blaine’s never been the scolding kind.

“I think I did a pretty good job with you, for as long as it was just the two of us,” he says instead. Timmy wasn’t expecting such words, and he looks up at him, frowning. “I mean,” Blaine says, offering him a tiny smile, “As a parent. You were such a happy child. It seemed all so easy, back then,” he sighs, “It was just us, no one in between, no complications of any sort. I seemed to always know what to do, somehow. People were complimenting me from all over the place, I couldn’t walk down the street with you in your stroller without somebody stopping me to tell me how brave I was for doing such a thing on my own, how kind and generous my heart was for taking you in, how good of a job was I doing with you, how beautiful and well-mannered you were despite being just a baby.” He smiles distantly for a second, lost in his memories. “Seems a thousand years ago.”

Timmy looks down, biting at his bottom lip. “You shouldn’t keep thinking about these things. Everything changed. As it always does. That’s what living means, right? The changing of things.”

Blaine nods slowly. “Still,” he says, “Something went wrong down the way, hasn’t it? It has to. Now, I know it couldn’t just have been the two of us forever, but something change in the way… I don’t know. Maybe in the way I talked to you, or in the way you listened to me. You grew distant.”

“So it’s my fault,” Timmy growls angrily. 

“I made you grow distant,” Blaine corrects himself. Timmy doesn’t see how this should be better. “I’m sorry, honey,” Blaine says, passing a hand over his face, “I’m really sorry. I have no idea what I should do to fix this situation. Every solution I could think of would probably just make everything worse. Should I grab you and move somewhere else, somewhere far, maybe Europe? Tie the bond back and so on? But I’d be pulling you away from Alex. Away from Leo. Away from your brother and sisters. I don’t have that right. Should I just stop seeing Leo? Or break up with Cody? And then what, move away? Stop seeing them, stop seeing _you_? I can’t even see myself…” he stops all of a sudden, holding his breath as if he was in physical pain.

As always, when something like this happens, Timmy holds his breath too, petrified on the spot out of worry. 

What would he have his father do? What choice could he impose on him to try and fix this, what choice that wouldn’t break everybody’s heart?

There’s none. Timmy thinks he knows why.

“Are you happy?” he asks, looking straight at him.

“Not right now, no,” Blaine admits with a short chuckle, “Right now, I feel miserable.”

“I’m not talking about right now,” Timmy shakes his head, “I’m talking about… them, I think. This… thing you kind of have. This thing nobody seems able to explain to me in clear words.” He sighs, “You all say _something happened_ , _this is good for us_ , _it was inevitable_ , _we wanna see where this leads us_ , but what is something, this and it, you can’t tell. And I can’t understand. Because it’s easy for me to say I love Alex and I can’t do without him. Shouldn’t it be just as easy for you to say the same about them?”

Blaine smiles apologetically, crouching his shoulders. “Somehow, when you grow old, things that were ridiculously easy before becomes worryingly complicated. It is a thing of life. I think you’ll get to understand it in the future. Though I hope you never need to.” He rests his shoulders against the chair. “It’s something that’s got to do with the shape and conditions of one’s own heart. When you’ve suffered long, and you just know you can’t take another blow, you hide from much too defining words. So yes. There’s a thing, right now. A thing none of us wants to name, as of the moment. You won’t hear me say what kind of relationship this is going to be. Or how we’ll handle this. Because I don’t know. We need to go down this road, but we also need to protect ourselves. I know you probably can’t understand, right now. But we do.”

Timmy lowers his eyes, playing lazily with the hem of his shirt. 

“So, what you’re telling me, basically… is that I can’t ask you anything practical question, right now. Like, how will this work. Or if Leo and the twins are gonna move in here. Or anything else, actually. ‘Cause you don’t know and even if you did you wouldn’t say it out loud not to make it become too much of a hard thing to face.”

Blaine nods, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. “That’s it,” he says.

Timmy nods too, slowly, letting it sink in. “Okay,” he says in a deep breath, “In this case, dad… I can’t live here anymore.”

He raises his gaze and his eyes meet Blaine’s halfway, and his father looks so worried, for a moment, Timmy fears he’s gonna panic. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. His voice is so weak.

“I mean…” Timmy says, lowering his eyes again, “I get it. You’re doing what you think it’s best. All of you are. You don’t wanna overcomplicate things, and I agree that’s the best choice. But it’s a choice that keeps things to vague. I can’t deal with vague things. I can’t… did you know for years, after the divorce, almost daily I sneaked into Leo’s room and grabbed the divorce papers, to read them through and through, even several times before I considered myself satisfied and could walk away? That’s who I am,” he explains, pressing a hand over his own chest, “I’m the kind of person who needs simple things to understand. Situations put down into words, so I can get used to them. I can’t… I can’t get used to what you want right now. I can’t go to bed never knowing if I’m gonna find Leo in the kitchen, or in the bed with you and Cody, or if I won’t. I can’t deal with this from inside this house. I need to be someplace else. Put some… some distance between this and myself.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe that’ll make me see it clearly, so that I can cope with it. But not like this. Not in this place.”

“But we had just…” his father looks down, biting at his inner cheek, “We had just found each other again.”

“You’re not losing me, dad,” Timmy says, “Actually, you might, if you don’t make me do this.”

“What is this, a threat?” Blaine asks, frowning lightly as he looks up to him.

“I would never dare,” Timmy answers right away, shaking his head, “I would _never_ dare, dad. But I’m scared it might happen. Because as it is… I’m just so…” he lets out a tiny whimper, covering his face with both hands. “I’m just so angry. And I don’t want this anger to destroy us. So please… I need to go. I need to do this. Let me to this.”

He lowers his hands to look back to his father, and he finds him already looking back at him. They just stare at each other for a few long, silent moments, and then Blaine nods. The tiniest swinging of his head. It means the world to both of them.

“Alright,” he says, “What did you have in mind?”

*

It’s half past five when Timmy slips back into Alex’s room. He’s still sleeping, in the very same position he was when Timmy left him hours ago. The blanket’s still covering him, and Timmy takes off his clothes and lies down underneath it, next to him, his hands already searching for his body the moment they start sharing the same space.

Alex leans into him, resting his head on his chest. Timmy lies still, looking up at the ceiling as its dark night blue turns to a lighter shade, as the sun outside prepares to rise.

Alex’s breathing changes slowly. In a few minutes, he’s awake, but he keeps lying down, not wanting to break the peaceful quietness of the moment. Just his index finger moves slowly, as it starts drawing random, irregular circles over Timmy’s chest.

“Do you come from a long journey, stranger?” he asks. His voice sounds sleepy, but aware. It’s the sweetest sound ever.

“I’ve been out,” he answers with a soft smile.

“I know,” Alex nods lightly, “Where have you been?”

Timmy sighs a little, settling better underneath him. “Places,” he answers vaguely.

“Good places?”

“Not really.”

Alex moves up, his head now resting on Timmy’s shoulder, his warm breath caressing the curve of his neck. “You still there?” he asks, a little worried.

“No,” Timmy shakes his head, “Actually, in a few days I might not even be here anymore,” he adds with a short chuckle.

Alex opens his eyes suddenly, tilting his head to look up at him. “What the fuck do you mean?” he asks.

Timmy smiles gently, pressing his lips against Alex’s in a barely wet kiss. “I talked this whole shit out,” he says, “With Leo, Cody and dad. We all agree I need some time out of here.” He shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe I’ve just grown out of this house. Or Leo’s house, for that matter. Maybe I just need a place of my own.”

Alex looks at him warily, blinking in clear confusion. “So?” he asks.

Timmy’s smile widen. “I think I’ll need some help at my new place,” Timmy answers, “Crops aren’t going to grow by themselves.” He stops suddenly, realizing what he just said. “Actually,” he says, “They will. Crops grow by themselves, mostly. What I meant was, they’re not gonna sow themselves. Yes, that’s more accurate.”

“Wait, wait— wait a fucking second,” Alex stops him, pressing both hands against his mouth and looking straight into his eyes, “Are you fucking serious?”

Timmy smiles against his palm, and then kisses it for good measure. “Never been more,” he answers, looking back at him.

Alex stares at him speechlessly for a few seconds, his eyes wide, his lips parted in complete astonishment. Then he laughs, tilting his head, resting his forehead against Timmy’s shoulder once again. “You’re completely out of your fucking mind,” he says, lightly shaking his head.

Timmy wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He is. He totally is. But given the seeds he’s coming from, how could it have been any different?


End file.
